


The Road to Elsinor

by Carbon65



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Anachronisms, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Slow Burn, Story within a Story, no rabbits were actually harmed in the making of this fic, nudity as a running joke, some fairy-tale-esque violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6313225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbon65/pseuds/Carbon65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there was a prince running away from his family, his birthright and his home.<br/>Once upon a time, there was an idealistic young knight who just wanted to make the world a better place and do his duty.<br/>Once upon a time, they took the road to the city of Elsinor to make the land safe, again.<br/>Once upon a time, they fell in love.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Elsinor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [English_Tea_Roses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/English_Tea_Roses/gifts).



> For the Prompt: _One is a spoiled and cynical prince, the other is an idealist knight. I'm not looking for anything too deep or complex here, so feel free to run wild with wherever the story takes you._
> 
> I really hope this works. I realized about a week after I got the prompt (once I'd had time to think about it) that I've never written fluffy and M before in my life.

Once upon a time, there was an inn. It was a fine inn, three stories tall and built of solid gray stone. The quarries for miles around dug up sandstone and limestone in shades of gold and brown, but, nothing white or gray. The common room was large, and the innkeep and her staff was friendly. They keep the fire warm, and they could find food for a weary traveler, even in the small hours of the morning. Upstairs, there were hot baths and clean beds. There were always travelers in the inn, and during the spring and fall trading seasons, there were nights a bed could not be found. The great caravans passed through, carrying local goods like potatoes, wood, and iron and returning with exotic items for foreign lands - tea, silks, and oranges. The inn served as a hub for other activities, too. When there was trouble, mercenaries sat near the fire, their nervous fingers straying to their weapons. And, when there was peace, diplomats might negotiate around the large wooden tables, trying to maintain the fragile state.

Once upon a quiet evening in early summer, when the rose bushes climbing the side of the stables just bloom, a man sits drinking alone by the fire. He is not a handsome man, but there is something almost magnetic about him. His gear is worn, but made of fine materials. The blade hidden inside his simple black leather scabbard is sharp, and has the mark of one of the best smiths for leagues. His pony and his warhorse could sell for three hundred crownes each - six times the yearly income of a farmer. He has been at the Crossroads Inn for a fortnight, drinking his way steadily through a case of Techmeculin wine the innkeeper bought from a caravan four or five months ago. He doesn’t speak often, but he pays a gold crowne to the innkeeper every seven day. He is called Roman, and he is a man on the run.

Across the inn, a blond man with pointed ears and sharp, beautiful features wears the tabard of the Order of the Rose, a group of itinerant Knights. His companion is a halfling whose facial tattoos marked her as a berserker. The knight, Elijah of Sands, is younger than his companion, with a halo of blond hair and a tendency to see only the best in the world. The paint has barely dried on his shield, and his head is still full of chivalric ideals and wild ideas.

His companion is older, more seasoned. Camille duLun is the kind of woman who bards write poems about. Mostly about her skill in separating men’s souls from their bodies, but sometimes also about her daring choices in fashion. When she is not working, Camille likes to go to the Opera. There are lines around her eyes, and the bright black of her tattoos is fading into the coppery brown of her skin. They’re not faded enough that she cannot channel the animal spirits. Her pelt is tied around his waist, the tail wrapped around her crossed ankles. She’d fought a fair number of battles, both held by the spirits and as herself. She’s advising the young knight about border duty to the north.

Just then, the inn door bursts open and a very naked man tumbles through.

_“What? Bahorel, why do I have to be the unlucky one, here? I mean, you’ve introduced Jolras and Aire and Cosette.”_

_“You lost everything during the last campaign. Like, everything. When we left you in Landera, your Samanuel was standing in the fountain square, naked, trying to raise money for a cloak by singing I’m a little teapot. Joly’s Johsen was chasing butterflies in his birthday suit. I’m a kind person. I’m a kind DM. I’ve gotten you out of Landera, where you’re wanted for public indecency and drunk and disorderly conduct for that little adventure. Don’t complain, you could still be in the stocks.”_

_“But, we’ll spend the rest of the game just trying to find clothes. Remember what happened on the Kimean campaign?”_

_“Seriously, Bahorel, Camille and I do not want to spend the entire game looking for clothes for Boss. I’m a patient woman, but, it will take hours for him to raise enough money to buy them, here.”_

_“...You could always roll for it.”_

Just then, the inn door bursts open. A barefoot man wearing a strategically placed sock and a cloak two sizes too big for him tumbles through.

Elijah leaps to his feet. “What happened to you, my brother?”

“I was robbed on the road to Elsinor.” the man with the singular sock, Samanuel, announces into the silence of the common room. 

The young knight frowns. “But, the road to Elsinor is one of the safest around.”

“The road to Elsinor used to be safe,” Samanuel allows. “But not since the old lord, peace be on his name, took sick four years ago.”

“What of the young lord, the grandson?” Camille asks. “Why hasn’t he returned?”

Roman takes a long drink of his wine, and rolls his eyes. Of course the dwarf was robbed on the road to Elsinor, and of course he is here. But, it’s not his responsibility. He signals over one of the serving girls for another glass of red.

“The lordling is in the wind. You know his grandfather named him, not his father, in the will. But the boy ran away, and left it for his father.” The newcomer explains in quiet tones. He pauses, then sighs. “But, can we stop wasting time with politics and can someone get a man some clothes and a meal? I’ve been walking all day, and it would be really awesome if I could get something to eat.”

The innkeeper looks a the man and sighs. In a moment of kindness, she acquiesces. “We have some soup, and we can make up a warm bed by the fire.”

* * * * * *

The next morning, the young knight and his berserker companion rise early. They train quietly in the yard, trying not to wake anyone else. As they’re finishing their training, the man from the inn emerges. He’s shielding his eyes, and his movements are sluggish, but he joins the practice.

Afterward, the three go in and eat breakfast together.

“We should escort that man to Elsinor, and then we should go see the governor!” Sir Elijah sounds far too excited.

Roman roll his eyes. “If I wasn’t still drunk from last night, I’d tell you all the reasons that’s a bad idea.” 

_“Jolras, No one who drinks as much as Roman is still drunk in the morning after a bottle of wine.”_

_“Yeah, well, you’re not giving an nuance to Elijah, either, Aire.”_

_“It’s hard for me to find nauence in a lawful good, man. I’m so not lawful good.”_

_“...Maybe not so good?”_

_“He did the eyebrow thing! Cosette, did you see, he did the eyebrow thing! He’s not allowed to do the eyebrow thing! ... Ouch!”_

Roman rolls his eyes. “What difference do you think that will make? Elsinor is a goddamn protectorate, the governor is like a king. You won’t change his mind.”

“We should go, anyway.” Camille offers, her grin showing filled teeth. “There is a Rose outpost there and Elijah needs to check in to see if there are orders.”

“That whole poverty, chastity, obedience, sobriety thing?” Roman prods.

Elijah considers his answer for longer than either of them expect. “Those are the chivalric ideals, but the way you speak of them, it sounds as though you have only ever seen their abuse. We will go,” he turns to Camille and she nods, “and we will escort him, if he wishes to be escorted. It is our duty. And then, we will go to the governor and speak with him because it is his duty.”

Roman snorted. Actually snorted, in the most disdainful way. “If the governor will see you, you won’t change his mind. He’s a demagogue, a king in his own land with the full support of the people he’s tyrannizing. The position is inherited, and he sees it as his god-given right to tax the people, and his right to ignore their safety.”

“Why haven’t the people revolted, then? Elsinor is one of the great cities in this land, surely the people of Elsinor have realized their own God given rights, and raised a barricade to fight.”

Roman shook his head. “ _Panem et Circenses_ , friend. He makes sure most of them have just enough to eat, just enough to feel like they could start to dream, and then gives them those dreams with pantomimes and a lottery. When, if, any spark of revolution starts, the comfortable citizens will dismiss it as violence or bad breeding. How can anyone be unhappy when they have enough to eat and the chance for mindless entertainment after a hard day of work?”

Perceptive Camille picks up on something. “You’ve been to Elsinor, recently?”

Roman just shrugged. “I grew up there.”

“Well then, you ought to come with us.” Elijah says, as though it was final. “You ought to go and see your home.”

“It's not my home, not anymore.” Roman pouted.

The innkeeper comes bustling out another pot of tea. “This isn’t your home, either. Seriously, Roman, it’s time to leave.”

_“Can I roll for that, and see if she’ll let Roman stay?”_

_“This is the start of the campaign. You need to go so you can start the campaign. Otherwise, as the DM, I will be forced to find all sorts of awful chores for Roman to do, so he can catch up with the rest of the party.”_

_“I thought Samanuel showing up naked was the start of the campaign. Good that we’re not doing live-action, by the way.”_

_“That’s Saturday mornings. Know that I considered it, but we always seem to get in trouble with someone. Or, Boss ends up at Urgent Care, and Muschetta said she’d kill me if I injure her boyfriend.”_

“Alright, it sounds like I’ll take the road to Elsinor with you.” Roman agrees.

So, the party packs up to leave. When Elijah goes to pay the innkeeper for the man who stayed the night, he finds its already been sorted out. And, not just by Sam’s apparent charisma, but, like actual real money. Because charisma and recognition doesn’t feed the cook’s daughter.

* * * * * *

They’ve been riding for most of the day when they happen upon a promising looking cave. They party confers, deciding if they should enter.

“What if there is an ogre in the cave?” Elijah asks.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Then we’ll charm him with our stunning wit.”

“What if it’s wolves?” Elijah persists.

It’s Camille’s turn to roll her eyes. “I’m tied to the wolves.”

“What if it's --” A growl from the cave cuts Elijah off. “What the hell?”

Roman shakes his head. “We were going to be there all night with you naming everything you could possibly think of that lives in a cave. So, I threw a rock...”

“And the cave growled.”

“Yes, Samanuel, the cave growled.”

Samanuel backs away, slowly. “We should not go in a growling cave.” 

“It could be fun.” The sun glints off of Camille’s sharpened teeth.

Now, Elijah is backing away, too. “It could be fun is usually a sentence that leads to bad, bad things, Camille. Last time you said, ‘It could be fun’, we ended up in the stocks.”

“There aren’t any stocks, here.” Camille protests.

Roman shakes his head. “There is something coming out of the cave, though. It looks like...” He starts to giggle.

It looks like a giant rabbit, a supersized version of what you’d find in people’s gardens eating their radishes. It has a soft brown coat, with giant, downy hairs that fluffed around its body, and stood out from it.

Roman wants to go over and hug it, because it looks like something you could cuddle.

“Hello? Ummm... Honorable Rabbit? How should we address you?” Elijah calls to the rabbit.

It roars. A roaring rabbit is somewhat terrifying. Also, it looks like it will be relatively easy to kill.

“So, not friendly then.” Roman string his bow, and tries to shoot it. But, the shot goes wild.

Camille pulls a cap off the walking stick she has been carrying to reveal a spear. She considered for a moment, and then hurls her weapon toward to the rabbit. Samanuel, standing behind her reaches out a hand to steady her afterward, and they both topple over into a tangled heap of limbs and curse words.

Elijah reaches for his sword, and trips over the pile of Camille and Sam. “Fuck.”

Roman notches another arrow to his bow, and finally, this one files true. The rabbit stumbles and falls to its knees.

_“Do rabbits have knees? This is a critical anatomical question.”_

_“Aren’t you the one who grew up in the country, Cosette?”_

_“The Google says they have a knee joint, but they don’t function the same way as a human knee joint.”_

_“Enjy, you’ve been living with Ferre too long. His medical nerdiness has rubbed off on you. You should go live with your super hot boyfriend. I hear he like, a massive 360 degree shower.”_

_“Tempting, Aire. Tempting.”_

_“You two are sickeningly cute. Enjolras, will you climb out of Grantaire’s lap and remove your tongue from his tonsils so we can continue, or should I just assume Elijah and Roman are knocked out?”_

Camille finally untangles herself from Samanuel and the now unconscious Elijah and notices that both Roman and the rabbit are on the ground. However, unlike her teammate, the rabbit appears to be moving. Oh well, she’s just going to have to do this herself. 

Shucking her clothes, and wrapping herself in the wolf pelt, Camille begins to run. The tattoos on her face and running the length of her body darken and twist, transforming themselves as she transforms. She has hold of her spear, now. The voice of the wolf is singing through her, and she launches herself across the ground and vault’s on the rabbit’s back, at least two meters in the air.

The rabbit baulks as she lands, but does not managed to get to its feet. She clings to its pelt, like a cowboy at the rodeo, and then sticks her spear in its back. The rabbit topples over, and manages to land on top of Samanuel, who is still getting back up.

“Fuck!” Samanuel exclaims. “Can you get this thing off of me?”

“Yeah, no, kind of stuck as well,” Camille sighs. “We’re going to have to wait until those two idiots stop kissing.”

“What? Your character can’t say that, Cosette. Roman and Elijah unconscious due to some unknown reason.”

“Yeah, no, kind of stuck as well,” Camille sighs. “We’re going to have to wait until those two idiots wake up.”

So, they wait as dark starts to fall. And, finally, the two idiots start to wake up. And they get the massive rabbit off Camille and Samanul. And then, they go into the cave, where they discover a small black lacquer box. But, it’s getting late, so they decide not to open it. Instead, they make a fire and eat some of the bread and cheese the innkeep gave them for the journey, and then they go to sleep.

During the night, Samanuel can’t sleep. By the light of the full moon, he creeps over the box and rubs the lid, trying to read the faded gold letters. He cannot solve it, so he goes to sleep, instead.

* * * * * *

The next day, they return to the road. They make fairly good time, riding through the hilly country between the inn and Elsinor. But, as the day continues and they approach Elsinor, they find a stranded traveler on the road.

“Oh No! What awful thing happened to you? Was it the patriarchy?” Elijah dismounts his horse, and goes over to see the traveler.

“I was robbed on the road,” the traveler says, a little bit breathlessly.

Samanuel frowns at the traveler. “Hey, don’t I know you?”

“No, no, definitely not.” The traveler looked nervously at Sam.

“Yes, yes I do. You robbed me. You fucking robbed me. You took all my clothes _and_ my shoes _and_ my horse.” Sam is a bit indignant.

The robber on the side of the road tries to deny it, but charismatic and intelligent Sam not only remembers, he convinces the rest of the party. It’s probably a good thing, because they’re on their guard. 

Camille strips down to her wolfskin, again, and holds her spear. Elijah has his sword from the scabbard, and has put his tabard away. For some reason, a big yellow rose over his soft, squishy bits doesn’t seem so smart anymore. Roman pulls a coin out of his bag and dances it across his fingers. Sam reaches into one of the traveling sacks, and produces the lacquer box, again. The letters are clearer, and glowing. Once again, he lifts the lid, and pulls out a pinch of the silvery powder inside. He sprinkles it over himself. There is a newt on the ground in his place.

“Holy fuck. Where’s Sam?” Camille looks over and notices his absence.

Sam tries to say, I’m a newt, but it’s really hard to make human words emerge from a newt’s throat. Instead, he lets out a screaming croak. 

Elijah, Roman, and the robber all turn to stare at Camille. “I don’t fucking speak newt... That’s stupid. I can barely ask where to piss in wolf.”

Roman sighs, and picks up the newt, and tucks him into a belt purse. “If Sam has gone to piss, I’m going to be really embarrassed. But, it’s probably easier to put a newt back than it is to squash Sam, or worse, leave him here and then have to fight the robbers for him, again.”

The comment seems to break the stunned silence, and the traveler-cum-robber sighs. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to just give over your lost friend’s things, and continue on your way.”

Roman sighs. “See, this poor Knight here just impoverished himself getting our companion second hand boots, clothes, and a loaf of bread. I’m not entirely sure he still has enough money to his name to support robbers as well.”

Elijah shakes his head. “My brother, alas, what has brought you to this sorry state, that you must rob people on the road?”

The robber gaped at them. And then, the rest of his companions poured over the crest of a hill and into the road. “Prepare to surrender your money.”

Roman studies the robbers. “Elijah, you can’t just ask people why they’re robbing on the road. That’s not part of the social contract. They’re supposed to say, ‘Give us your money’, and you’re supposed to say, ‘Yes, sir, there’s some in my saddle bag’. And then, they’re supposed to take it and use it to feed their children.”

The robber from the side of the road interrupts what may easily become an argument between Roman and Elijah. “Boys, we don’t have time for your argument, just give us your money.”

“Wouldn’t you rather tell us what has gone wrong in your life and come with us to Elsinor to address it?” Elijah offers.

The robbers would not prefer to tell them what has gone wrong with his life and go with them to Elsinor. The robber pulls out a short sword, and Elijah is instead forced to parry. Camile attacks with her spear, falling on the robbers as well. Roman is caught unaware and reaches into his belt pouch for the knives he keeps there for throwing. Somehow, his hand lands on something small and slimy instead.

Oh Shit, Sam the newt thinks as he flies through the air. Oh, fuck yeah, Sam the newt thinks as he lands a hit on the lead robber’s face and bites his nose so hard he breaks it. 

_“Boss, how do you manage to do more damage as a newt than as dwarf?”_

_“Skills, Aire. I have mad skills. ...And no pants.”_

The robber manages to shake the newt off, but Roman scoops him back up and puts him back in his belt pouch. Then, he manages to hit another of the robbers with the butt of his knife, and the man falls over.

In the meantime, Camille has managed to dispatch another three of the robbers, through years of experience and the kind of savage badassery that marks the Berserkers. She wipes the blood from her spear, but the blood lust is still high.

Elijah sits with a robber whose hands are tied with a leather belt. “I want to question him, to understand why he is robbing on the road instead of doing whatever he was trained to do.”

“Elijah, he’s an NPC robber. He doesn’t have to have a tragic backstory.” Camille points her sharpened spear at the captive man, and lays a gentle, if bloody hand, on Elijah’s arm.

He has a tragic backstory. The man’s father had been a day laborer in Elsinor, and had been killed in an accident at the docks. And so, the boy had left school at the age of twelve to help support his mother and his four younger sisters. His mother had begged him not to go, but he went, anyway. He worked for seven long years, but then the old lord, peace be upon his name, died. And, with his grandson, the young wastrel running away, the father took responsibility. The governor didn’t know how to manage the finances. There wasn’t enough money to keep the schools open, or the free clinics running, but there was always enough money for war. The boy’s sister fell ill with the sort of cough that might have been treated with medicine, if it had still be affordable, even with rising co-pays. So, when his second sister fell ill and there were no jobs to be found, he turned to robbery.

“Can’t you take personal responsibility?” Camille demands. “There has to be something other than highway robbery for a resourceful boy.”

Roman turns away. “Let him go.” His voice is hard as steel.

“What?” Camille and Elijah ask in unison. “We need to take him to the governor to show the pain he’s causing,” Elijah objects.  
“We need to take him to the stocks.” Camille speaks at the same time.

“Take him to the governor and get him killed, take him to the stocks and let him starve to death, let him go and let him return to his camp alone with nothing, it makes no difference.” Roman’s voice is quiet and emotionless. “This man was dead the moment he came across our party. It’s simply a question of who will give him a merciful death.”

“The stocks,” The thief begs. “Take me to the stocks. It will be better than going back empty handed.”

And so, they begin their journey again. Elijah pesters the man for information about the governor, and the way life has changed in Elsinor since the death of the old lord, peace be on his name. With every revelation, the young knight grows angrier, and Roman grows more withdrawn.

And, the second day of their journey passes.

* * * * * *

The next morning dawns gray and misty, an almost literary reflection of the scene. Which sounds insanely Romantic, but really just means that they’re all cross. Sam is cross because he’s a newt, and really, being a newt is kind of awful. The robber is cross because he ended up falling sleeping in a bad position and his feet were asleep. Elijah is cross because, despite his best efforts, he has not managed to convince the robber to come with them to the governor. Camille is cross because the mud means her feet won’t be dry until they find an inn, and she hates nothing more than wet socks that smell like wool. And, Roman is cross because he’s a moody bastard.

Somewhere along the way, Elijah gives up talking to the robber, and starts working on Roman, instead. Things slowly emerge. Elijah is the second son of a second son of a second son of a minor noble on his father’s side, and a merchant on his mother’s. His brother joined the church, and his sister has more of a mind for numbers than he will ever have. But, being a knight seemed like an opportunity to save people.  
Roman’s parents are old conservatives, and they don’t really get along. His granddad was pretty much a badass, but his parents... Roman doesn’t begin to know how to relate to his parents. He has a sister, though. He doesn’t really know how to relate to his sister, either, to be honest, but that may be because she’s twelve and twelve year olds are confusing.  
Elijah is afraid that he made a mistake, that the pen is mightier than the sword.  
Roman is afraid that he left home too soon, that he should have tried harder when his father kicked him out.  
Elijah wants nothing more than to see the world change.  
Roman wants nothing more than for the world to go back to the way it was, before.

* * * * * *

They arrive in Elsinor as the noon bell is tolling and the heavens open.  
Camille swears loudly, and hurries toward the nearest building, leaving her pony for Elijah.  
Roman leads his horses on a string, and ignores Elijah’s struggle with the two horses and one robber.  
Elijah sighs, and fishes in his belt purse for a copper penny, and waves over a boy. “I will give you this if you lead the second horse.” The boy just laughs in his face. Elijah sighs, and picks up the reigns and begins trudging.  
Sam the newt sticks his head out of Roman’s pouch. I wish I were human again, he tries to say.

Suddenly, Roman falls over, and a fully grown, naked dwarf emerges from his now shredded belt purse. “Fuck yeah, I can talk again!” Sam grins, wide.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to put on some clothes.” A constable hurries over, and offers his tri-cornered hat to over Sam.

“I like a nice breeze.” Sam announces. 

The constable frowns. “TMI. Go take your breeze elsewhere.” 

Elijah tries to throw Samanuel a blanket, but it lands in the mud. Roman rescues him by pulling off his jerkin, which Sam does manage to catch. Then, he retrieves his saddle bag from Roman’s pony and takes Elijah’s second horse with an eyeroll. “I don’t know why we brought him. He tried to rob me. He turned me into a newt.”

“How?” Roman demanded. “How did he turn you into a newt?”

“Yes, actually, that’s a really good question, oh skeptical one.” Elijah agreed, somehow managing to drop the reins in the process. “Oy, Copper! Can you --”

Sam covers Elijah’s mouth quickly. “Ex-nay on the opper-cay. They’d still like to arrest me for public nudity.”

“Well, you are kind of naked,” the robber offers.

“Not helping!” Sam and Elijah manage in stereo.

Somehow, they manage to deliver the horses to a stable and negotiate a reasonable rate and make it back to the inn without Sam getting arrested. This actually takes much luck, and great skill. They have a near run in once, but Roman, of all people, Roman manages to talk the second constable out of arresting them for (1) the nearly naked member of their party and (2) the tied up member of their party.

_“How is it that you always win the charismatic check, but never win the pants check? Seriously, Boss, it’s like the worst superpower, ever.”_

* * * * * *

Camille is waiting for them back at the inn, already drinking her favorite hot tea and talking to a sailor at least two meters tall. He leans over to hear her voice, and it might be the cutest damn thing ever, at least to hear Sam was poetic about it.

Sam goes up for a bath, to get the newt feeling off of his skin, and then borrows money from someone long enough that the tavern boy can go buy him some used clothes. Dressed, he wanders in the direction of the financial district, where he still has some credit.

Elijah deposits the still tied convict in his room, and goes to the town library to read the records. He wants to understand why has gone wrong in Elsinor, so that when he goes to see the governor. He wants to be informed so that when they talk about the world like educated men, he does not seem ignorant.

The problem is that he can’t seem to shake Roman. The drifter pulls his hood up over his head, and follows the knight out into the rain-drenched streets.

After three hours trying to get to the library, Elijah has come to three critical conclusions. First, Roman clearly never grew up here, because he can’t navigate his way out of a paper bag. 

_“Enjolras, Aire, you can’t just switch characters in the middle of the game so you can declare your undying love for eachother. It’s kind of tacky.”_

_“Bahorel, in all the time you’ve know him, has classy ever been an adjective you’d apply to Grantaire?”_

_“I resemble that one, babe.”  
_

He keeps telling Elijah the library is in the northwest, no the south west, no the central corner of the the city. They wander past the docks, through the red light district, and past the fancy houses on the hill. They find the University, and the corresponding university slums where the students live in a haze of information and plywood. They find the large open air market, and Roman acquires a warm cup of wine from one of the sellers. Finally, they head toward the center of the town, and the library.

Second, the surly-seeming Roman is actually quite loquacious when you start him talking about things he cares about. Asking him to discuss his family is like pulling teeth. But, engage him in a discussion of art, of literature, or philosophy, and he’s not half stupid. Absurd, perhaps, but talkative and careful. He criticizes Elijah at every turn, insisting that there is no way he actually believe what he believes. Surely, Elijah cannot believe all people are good. He cannot ascribe to the dangerous republican beliefs that all people have equal worth and deserve respect. And, the idea that people might rule themselves? That goes against human nature. A constitutional monarchy, perhaps, but even then... 

Third, for all that he denies it, Elijah is almost certain that Roman is of noble birth. He is not afraid to carry money, and he spends it well. But, there are things about his words, things about his carriage, words he says that make Elijah wonder. Why the son of a noble house would become a ranger and not join a knightly order, Elijah doesn't understand. Perhaps, Roman is a bastard, and that’s why he feels such enmity toward his parents.

In turn, Roman determines four things about his companion. First, his eyes make crescents when he laughs, especially at Roman’s absurdity.  
Second, he is the most honest man Roman has ever met, honest and principled to a fault. Martyr-dome might not be enough for this man. Elijah would not just kill for a cause he thought was right, he would lay waste to the land around him to hold up the things he believed him.  
Third, despite all of his intensity, Elijah is still an idealist at heart. Maybe the three years of difference between the ranger and the knight are enough. The world has hardened Roman, but it has left Elijah as pure as a cinnamon roll.  
Fourth, Roman is pretty sure he’s falling for Elijah. ...Which is basically the reason Roman can’t take Elijah to the library, or to meet the governor. Because Elijah will hate him for being a coward and a drunk and a liar. Elijah will never want someone spoiled rotten to his very core.

After a fruitless seven hours of searching, they never find the library, and instead take a circuitous route back along the long cobbled streets of the city, toward their inn. They’re eating some kind of meat on a stick, and arguing companionably about everything and nothing. The night fires have already been banked as they enter the quiet common room. “I wish we didn’t have to part,” Elijah tells Roman.

Roman shakes his head. “We don’t need to.”

_”Here, I brought you something.”_

_“Cosette, what are those?”_

_“They’re dice. Sex dice.”_

_“Those aren’t part of official game play...”_

_“I’m the DM, I’ll allow it.”_

He leads Elijah upstairs, and opens the door to his room. There’s a big double bed with clean white sheets, and a banked fire. Roman sighs, and throws his cloak over a chair. Elijah follows his lead, shucking off his tabard. His shirt rides up, revealing an enticing trail of blonde hair. 

“You should let me help you with your sword,” Roman offers solicitously.

Elijah nods, and Roman bends down on his knees. He undoes the belt around Elijah’s waist. No one has ever undone the belt around Elijah’s waist before, but he consents. Roman tries to run a line of kisses across the rough cloth covering his thing, but Elijah can’t feel the kisses. “I’ll have to take off my pants, too.” He complies with the action.  
Roman’s lips feel like butterflies tickling the inside of his leg. He never knew a touch could be quite so erotic, but he feels himself getting hard at just the barest tickle.

He leans in to trail his calloused fingers gently across Roman’s neck. The ranger responds with a shiver of pleasure. He walks Elijah backwards toward the bed, pulling him in close. The knight moves from touching to sucking.

Roman reaches up underneath Elijah’s shirt, and trails his hand along that happy trail. The knight is no longer wearing pants, and he lets Roman remove his shirt as well. The ranger shucks his clothes, too. He is muscular, with a smattering of soft black hairs and soft brown skin.

Elijah moves back to working on Roman’s neck, moving up to blow gently into his ear. He forms the air into words. “We still good?”

“Oh, we’re still good,” Roman promises. We’re still very good.”

Elijah nuzzles against him, and Roman sighs in contentment. 

“Can I take you in my mouth?” The ranger asks, already trailing kisses and caresses down Elijah’s body.

The blond is a mouthful, rough against his soft palate and yet so right. He sucks, teasing the tip with tongue, and then moving in deep until his hardening member brushed the back of Roman’s throat. 

When Elijah trails kisses down Roman’s neck and runs fingers through his hair, the ranger feels himself hardening as well. Warmth and pain and ecstasy swirl through him, and pushes his tongue harder against Elijah’s cock.

When they come, they come together. It’s like the world snapping into focus, and a warmth spreads through his body, radiating from his groin. Roman lets out a small sigh, and half stands to push Elijah onto the bed.

They curl against each other, Elijah’s fingers carding through his curls and his arm lazily and possessively draped across the knight’s waist.

...And, when Roman’s breath has become even, Elijah kisses him gently on the cheek, gathers up his clothes and his swords and pads back to his own room.

* * * * * *

The next morning comes too early, and this one is gray in a story-book way. It comes with knocking and shouting and stamping boots. Elijah’s heart seems to quicken. He wraps himself in the sheet and sticks his head out the door.  
Sam doesn’t bother with a sheet, and just opens the door.  
Roman doesn’t struggle, doesn’t say anything. He just lets them carry him out. Elijah doesn’t understand.  
Camille rolls over, sighs, and stretches in the bed. It’s been awhile since she slept in a bed this big.

Elijah and Sam dress quickly. Then, Elijah rouses Camille, despite the pain of death. They dress quickly, and hurry to the local guard station. The captain of the guard is entirely unsympathetic, and refuses to tell them where Roman has been taken. So, they go to the next guard station, where the captain of the guard tells them the same thing. They try a third, fourth, fifth... tenth, but the answer is always the same. The guards not only do not have Roman, they have no information. Elijah starts to get frustrated, and Camille starts to get angry. 

“I’m hangry,” Camille announces as they pass a bakery. “We won’t find him any more quickly, without breakfast.”

They stop and enter. Camille pays for food, and sits by the fountain in the square.

“What if I drove him away?” Elijah flops down beside her. He feels empty and afraid. He is too is too concerned to eat. He feels quite dejected, as though he’s lost a friend he’s known all his life, and not a stranger he met three days ago. 

Sam feels in his pocket, and disappears for a few moments. Camille is finishing her pastry when the dwarf returns. 

Sam sighs, resigned. “I know where he is,” he says, voice leaden.

“What?” Camille and Elijah demand. “How do you know?”

Sam eyes them questionly. “You know that’s a library, right?” He indicates the building behind him. “You know what a library is, don’t you, Elijah?”

Elijah bristles. “I’m not stupid. There is actually something under this blond hair.”

“Yeah, a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of the combined works of Mavis Staples, bell hooks and Dorothea Day and that carpet cleaning jingle.” Camille dodges out of the way.

Sam watches the two of them. When they stop laughing, he tells them, “I know where Roman is.”

“Fuck, why didn’t you lead with that?” Camille demands.

* * * * * *

The Governor's house sits on a hill, overlooking the city. It’s surrounded by some of the only green space inside the walls, and it sits atop a hill. In truth, it reminds Elijah more of a palace that the seat of a regional governor. And then, he remembers that Elsinor is a city state, the furthest most of the federated kingdoms and not a part of the Empire. In Elsinor, the governor has the same power as a king.

The three adventurers trudge toward the palace. They could have gone back to the stable and gotten their horses, but once they realized where Roman was, no one - Elijah - could not wait. He would have run five hundred miles and he would have run five hundred more just to be the man who found Roman. 

They arrive sweaty and smelling like the streets. They ask the guard, but he refuses to let them in. They talk about their plan.  
They could try to kill the guard, outright. But, that seems excessively violent and completely out of character for all of them. Besides, Camille can’t quite summon the spirit of the wolf trapped inside this city. And, without her wolf, she cannot summon enough attack strength.  
They could try to reason with him. Surely, he’s a guard and he’s an intelligent man. Camille points out the guard is another NPC, and once again, he is not obligated to have a tragic backstory. And, seriously, Elijah needs to stop listening to the NPCs trying to convince him to save them. It’s like a pathological need. The guard is not swayed by intelligent arguments.  
Samanuel thinks they could seduce the guard. Like, all they have to do is drop their pants and be very, very charismatic.  
Sam manages to be sufficiently charismatic.

Because of time constraints on this campaign, they are lead directly to the seat of government. It’s not nearly as imposing as the iron throne. In fact, the seat of Elsinor is a chintz armchair with a white crocheted blanket across the back. The guard explains, “They’ve ordered a proper throne, but it hasn’t arrived, yet.”

The man who sits on the throne is ... not Roman. He has the same dark, curling hair, and the same brown eyes. The woman by his side, in an equally squashy armchair, has Roman’s nose and chin. A little girl sits off to the side of their dais, quietly reading a book.

“We’re here for Roman?” Elijah calls into the suddenly silent throne room. The words seem to echo against the unforgiving stone walls.

“Who is Roman?” The man on the dias asks. 

“Roman is... Roman is... Roman is my friend.” Elijah manages to get out.

_“‘Roman is my friend?’ Seriously, R. You’re an artist, but you’re not Jehan. Let Enjy play Elijah for a change while you go eat. Don’t look at me like that, I know your lows are less fun for you than for the rest of us, and I’m the one who woke up with honey on his pillow last tuesday.”_

“Roman is... Roman is... Roman is one of the best men I know.” Elijah manages to get out. “He is a ranger, who knows the land and the city better than anyone, and still managed to get lost when he fell in love. He is a man who pays for a naked stranger at an inn, even though the innkeep has already agreed to feed the man, because he has the money and he wants the cook’s daughter to have a dowery. He refused to condemn a robber to the gallows for his first offense. Roman is a man of honor.

The governor on the throne snorts. “We have no room for boys who do not know justice, here.” 

“Then, you will be able to give over our innocent companion. Or, is it just that he should be held without trial or charges?” Camille prompts.

“We are not holding anyone, least of all your companion, unlawfully.” The governor responds. “There has been no arrest, so there was no need for a trial. There are no criminals here, only me and my family, who you are distributing.” 

“No arrest?” Elijah challenges. “Roman carried out of his bed by the guard for no reasons. He was brought here, to the seat of government. Isn’t that the definition of an arrest?” 

The little girl climbs to her feet and smoothes her skirts with the coolest air a twelve year old can muster. 

The governor studies them. “The only arrest which will be made today is an arrest for your insubordination.” 

“Stop.” The voice echoes through the hall, freezing everyone. Roman enters, dressed in black woolen breeches, a black silk shirt and soft black boots. His sword is slung low across his hip, and he stands tall. His hair is clean and combed. “Don’t lie.” 

“What the fuck?” Whispered Elijah. 

Camille and Sam exchange looks and roll their eyes. Leave it to the young knight to be the densest person in the city. 

“I didn’t arrest you,” the governor insists. “It’s not an arrest for a father to ask the town guard to bring his wayward son home." 

“I left! I left with your knowledge and your consent! You wanted to be the Lord of Elsinor, you made sure Grandfather didn’t allow me to be trained.” Roman was a tall, looming presence in his black clothes. He looked both imposing and like the petulant lordling he had always been. 

“The old man’s will was a mistake,” Roman’s father insists. “We should not have to abide by the old man’s errors. The people should not have to abide by the old man’s errors.” 

“The people are unhappy.” Elijah cannot help but step to the aid of his friend. “In the docks and the taverns, they are unhappy. Their children do not have enough to eat and cannot afford medicine. They are not free.” 

“Umm… Elijah, you know this is a feudal system, right? Republicanism and Socialism are probably not options yet.” Sam puts a gentle arm on Elijah’s elbow. And, Sam is right. The ideal of republicanism is probably dead in some greek temple somewhere, waiting to be unearthed by a formidable culture and then stolen by some white guys. 

“You’re a liar!” The Governor insists. “The people love me. That’s why they keep me on my throne!” 

Camille grows angry, and begins to pull at her dress. “The people do not love you. The people are afraid of you. They want anyone but you to come and rule, including the lordling.” 

Roman’s sister retreats, and his mother starts to look nervous. 

“Fratricide via berserker is still fratricide,” Roman comments mildly. “Calm down, Camille.” 

“Well, I’d like to resolve this in a way that optimizes XP and hit points.” Camille continues to undo her sash. “And, a coup d'etat seems like the most expedient resolution in a world where the ideal of representation among the wealthy, white male landowners hasn’t quite been achieved.” 

“Camille, that makes no sense. A bloody coup and revolution would have things worse for everyone. If we do that, men will go to jail for a loaf of bread.” Elijah manages to keep his voice just this side of condescending, but it earns him a glare from Camille. “We should encourage the people fight. We should inspire them in the spirit of liberty, justice, and patria.” 

“We should get a lawyer,” Sam suggests flatly. “If only we knew someone who understood the law and could help make a ruling on what was legal.” 

Everyone ignores him. 

Sam takes off his pants. “If only we knew someone who understood the law and could help make a legal ruling without having to immediately resort to violence.” 

“What a wonderful idea,” Roman’s mother agreed. 

“We should get a lawyer.” The governor agreed. 

Roman got an evil glint in his eye. “I see a ranger, a knight, a berserker and an adventurer. We clearly need a bard or a cleric or a rogue to do something like that. Or else, we could find an NPC.” 

_”As all the NPCs here, I want to make it clear, I ain’t no stinkin’ lawyer.”_

“So, perhaps, we could negotiate an arrangement where no one gets killed or tries to kill anyone related to me for hit points,” Roman suggests. “But, that should wait until our next adventure? 

“That means I should be able to take you back to the inn?” Elijah prompts. 

“Yes, let’s go.” Roman agrees. 

The governor frowns. “But…” 

“But, we’re going to stay and help you be a better leader,” Camille threatens as Roman and Elijah make their escape.

* * * * * *

Back at the inn, they go up to Roman’s room. The amazing staff has cleaned the place up, and Roman places a pile crowne on the dresser for the cleaning crew. Beside him, Elijah had placed their swords within easy reach of their bed, and draped their cloaks and boots by the fire to dry. 

Then, they start kissing. Elijah’s tongue explores the reaches of Roman’s mouth. He gently suck’s the raven haired man’s lip and Roman strips off both their shirts. Managing to kiss while the cloth went over their heads was hard, but the pile of white tangled with black on the floor was artistically satisfying. 

Next came their belts and pants, in a burst of both needing to be naked. Their clothes were just too much, and the cloth was getting in the way of their ability to touch each other. Even the air between them was too much. E and R fell into bed together in a tangle of limbs. 

Elijah trailed a line of kisses down Roman’s stomach, a gentle butterfly’s touch near his navel. Roman reciprocated by leaning in close to gently blow in Elijah’s ear. “Good? Good? Good?” 

“Good,” Elijah sighed. “So, Good.” He moved up Roman’s body to sick at his lips, until they were red and swollen. His cock was getting swollen, too. 

_“Can I open you?”_ R asked, his fingers straying first to the bottle of lube on the nightstand, and then toward E’s perfectly sculpted ass. 

_“Please, please.”_ E sighed, as R cupped his cheek in a calloused hand. 

The lube was cold and slippery, but Roman was gentle as he inserted first one, then two, then three fingers. _“You’re so tight, so beautiful.”_

E moves forward, to lick and suck at the hollow part of R’s shoulder, at the hollow of his collar bone. _“So Good, so beautiful. Love you.”_ He whispers. He trails kisses up R’s throat, onto his jawbone and into his ear and onto the star tattooed there and Grantaire maneuvers him toward his cock. 

_“Do you still want this?”_ He asks, waiting for consent. 

_“Yes. Yes.”_ Enjolras is enthusiastic. _“Yes, I want this.”_

Grantaire guides him down, and they kiss as they rock. 

The feeling builds inside of Grantaire, leaving him feeling light headed as blood rushes toward other organs. 

Enjolras trails his hands over his chest, sighing and shivering. He can feel the fizzing in his chest. He needs this so badly. He needs this. 

_“Enjolras!”_ Grantaire screams as the organsm tears through him like a wave crashing against the shore 

White, sticky liquid spills across Grantaire’s soft, hairy stomach as Enjolras climaxes, and the two fall against each other, spent. 

They curl together, cuddling. Enjolras lazily kisses the tattoos along Grantaire’s arm, and Grantaire runs a thumb along Enjolras’s hip. 

In the shower, cleaning up, Enjolras leans in. "Stealing those dice was the best D&D idea you’ve ever had, Roman." 

”I thought they’d help us live happily ever after, Elijah. 

**Author's Note:**

> \---------  
> Amis and their characters
> 
> Bahorel -- DM/narrator  
> Bousset -- Samanuel, a dwarf bard with the most fabulous head of hair you've ever seen  
> Cosette -- Camille, a halfing Bezerker  
> Enjolras -- normally plays Sir Elijah, currently playing Roman, a human prince trained as a ranger  
> Grantaire -- normally plays Prince Roman, currently playing Elijah of Sands, a half-elf Knight of the Order of the Rose  
> Joly -- Johsen, a cleric


End file.
